Dementor's Kiss
The prisoner huddles in his cell, feeling the dread and cold of a dementor passing by. There is no way to dull that constant ache, but he grasps at whatever happiness he has left.
He has long forgotten whatever crime he committed to land himself in this place. But that comes with a small mercy because the dementors can no longer force him to feel regret and guilt. The prisoner prefers the numbed ache to the constant remorse and dread.
Lost in thought, the prisoner stares off into the distance, every bit looking like the madman he is supposed to be.
When suddenly, the cold lifts, for just a second and his cell door is creaking open. Shielding his dead eyes from the light pouring in, the prisoner flinches.
A lone man steps into the room, protected by a shimmery silver patronus. The prisoner stares at the silver animal, feeling some small form of comfort from the happiness and joy radiating off the protective shield. But not enough, not enough by far. The man steps into the light of the patronus and the prisoner would gasp if he had the energy to.
This man is important somehow, but the prisoner can't remember why anymore.
The man tips his hat and almost grins at him. Pointing a finger at the prone figure on the ground, the man calls in one of the dementors hovering nearby. His mouth opens and out comes words that are far, far too loud for the prisoner's dilapidated ears.
"Kiss him," the man says, and the prisoner feels every syllable of those words cutting into his withered soul.
Kiss him.
Kiss him.
Kiss him.
If the prisoner could still dream, the two words would've made their way into every single dream, memory and thought.
If there was still time.
Instead, the man leaves, not wanting to see the scene that follows and the prisoner shrinks further into the wall. He desperately try's to make himself invisible to the horrid creature occupying his cell. The prisoner's memory is far gone but he still remembers the implication of those two words.
Kiss him.
Kiss him.
Kiss him.
The dementor seems to almost smirk (is that possible?) and the prisoner shudders in fear. He feels wounds that are years old break open again in the presence of the dementor, the demon. The numb ache fades again to horrible agony. He screeches. And his lungs and throat are on fire from their disuse. He screams and writhes and moans in agony.
There is nothing to describe this pain. Because it's the physical pain of his throat being torn apart and the mental pain of the hurt and longing and guilt. And suddenly, he remembers what he did to deserve this hellhole.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
It's before he was a prisoner, before he was a convict. It's before he had the innocent blood of human beings on his hands.
It's when he was innocent himself.
He was young, carefree and laidback.
He was in love with a beautiful woman.
But she was a muggle, he was a wizard and the times were more complicated. In fact, he was a pureblood, and his family didn't want to tolerate muggles.
He paces now, on a dimly lit street in the muggle world, trying to think of the right way to tell her. To tell her he loved her but their love was complicated. How to tell her that he was a wizard and his family would treat her like filth.
How did you tell someone you loved that not only would your family hate her but would treat her like she was below an animal? Below even the ugly house elves that were essentially slaves?
But he knew that she had to know.
So he left, and went to her house to break the news.
He turns on his heel and the next thing he knows, he's staring at her door, sweat pouring down his face.
He rings the doorbell.
And she answers.
"Hi! What're you doing here? Miss me?" she smiles, playfully teasing him. On any other day he would've laughed. But not today. Today, he has far too much on his mind to laugh with her.
Instead, he settles for a weak smile. "Can I come in?"
She nods, and steps aside, waiting for him to come in the door.
"Go sit on the couch, I'll come back with drinks," she tells him and leave for the kitchen.
When he sits on her couch, he decides the best way to break the news is fast, else she wouldn't believe him. He'd need to demonstrate too, to prove his point. So he nervously fingers his wand in his pocket and waits for her to come back.
"I have to tell you something," he blurts as soon as she sits down in front of him.
Immediately, he forehead creases and she stares at him in worry. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?" she questions suspiciously.
"No!" he shouts. "No, never, but there's something you have to know about me."
She stares at him with raised eyebrows.
"I'm a wizard," he admits.
She stares some more.
And she bursts out laughing. "You've got to be kidding me, wizards don't exist!"
It's his turn to stare at her now, and he does so, while pulling out his wand. "Watch me," he says, calmly and quietly. And he swishes and flicks his wand, preforming the first year level levitating spell.
The mug of juice floats up to the ceiling and he lets it hang there for a second, watching her face. She looks dumbfounded, utterly shock at the display of magic. He cup hangs in the air and her eyes are glued to it. "Do you believe me now?" he asks her as he brings the cup back down to the table. "Because if you want me to, I'll leave."
She is silent.
But then she comes back to life with a gasp. "You-you," she stutters. "That was magic, wasn't it?" she screeches.
He nods, awaiting her response.
"Yo-you."
He looks at her, waiting for her to form a complete sentence.
"You-you get out! Get out of my house! You're a freak! An abomination! Get out! Get out! Get out! I don't want to ever see you again. Stay away from me!" she screams, wildly shaking her head and pointing at the door. "GET OUT!"
He scrambles to his feet, wordlessly running for the door.
He decides to come back the next day, hoping that she calms down.
He runs out onto the street and apparates away, leaving behind his yelling girlfriend and desperately hoping she'd forgive him.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The next day, he returns to her house, hoping to give an explanation.
But the door is locked and she doesn't answer when he rings the doorbell.
"Alohamora," he intones, not wanting to intrude but also needing to talk to her. So he unlocks the door and wanders in.
She's not there.
Searching all over the house for her, he wonders if maybe she's out.
But his hopes are immediately crushed as he finds her, in her bedroom with another man. They're wrapped around each other, mouths locked in a passionate embrace. His mouth hangs open and rage quickly fills his vision, darkening his visage.
He loudly clears his throat and they finally notice him standing in the doorway.
"I thought I told you to get out," his gir- ex-girlfriend coldly says, glaring in his direction. "How'd you get in here anyways?"
And that's when he loses it.
A wide smirk spread across his face and he smugly grins. "Magic, that's how," he says and points his wand at the pair lying on the bed. "And magic is how I'm going to get rid of you two."
Turning to point his wand at her new boyfriend, he utters the curse that would condemn him forever. "Avada Kedavra," he hisses and watches in morbid curiosity as the green jet of light smashes into her boyfriend and he is still. Laughing, he points the wand at her. "How do you like me now, sweetheart?" he cries as he cackles.
"Crucio!" he yells, putting all his sadistic pleasure into hurting the woman he thought he loved. He grins as she squirms and yell and screeches in pain.
"Crucio, crucio, cruciocruciocrucio!" he yells, putting all his hurt into the spell.
When at last she stops crying and only whimpers instead. When she stops writhing and curls into herself in pain. When she stops pleading for mercy and instead only stares, dead eyed and zombie like at the ceiling, that's when he knows he has gone too far.
He drops his wand in horror, looking at the woman he has made insane and the man who he killed.
He sits on the ground, dazed, wondering what to do.
He makes up his mind. He will not let the ministry officials find his gir-ex-girlfriend. The man he doesn't care about. So he quickly leaves the man where he is and creates a portkey to the nearest mental institution and sends the woman off. Then, he turns and flees; running, running, and running, hoping he doesn't get caught.
But only a few hours later, the man is discovered and he's arrested. He doesn't say anything at the trial though; merely thankful they didn't find the woman. It's only two days later that he find himself in Azkaban, imprisoned for life.
It's now that he becomes the prisoner.
And it's in that exact same spot that he meets his fate.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The prisoner shudders at the memory, feeling the fresh guilt rip him apart once more.
His stare is unwavering, directed towards the dementor.
Using his harsh and torn vocal chords, he utters out two words. "Do it."
Kiss me...
Kiss me…
Kiss me…
The dementor glides closer and lifts rotting grey hands to its hood.
The prisoner braces himself, but is still not ready for what's beyond that hood.
When the hood is pulled back, the prisoner does not see a rotting face. He does not see a slimy mess. No, instead, he finds himself staring into the face of the girl he loved. Of the girl he good as killed. She looks just like she did before. Her eyes wide and dark hair cascading down the tattered cloak she wears.
He flinches, waiting for the guilty feeling to assault him.
But it doesn't come. Instead, the girl opens plump lips and says three words that forever change him. "I forgive you," she whispers.
He feels all the pain and hurt buried beneath him once more as happiness he didn't know he still had floats to the surface. It's more happy than he's felt in a long time and he feels a lightness.
She grins and presses the full lips to his and his taste buds explode at her tender kiss. It's just like how it used to be. Just like how it was before he ruined everything. He caressed her cheek and marvels at how she doesn't mind the rough skin of his palm. He blinks his dry eyes and tears fall.
Is this real?
Is this really happening?
"Yes," she breathes, almost reading his thoughts. "I'm as real as you want me to be."
He grins now and ignores a small part of his that's screaming. He ignores the dread that somehow fills him at the thought of his long insane lover. "I want you to be real," he forces through his abused throat, ignoring the pain. "I want you to love me again."
"I never stopped loving you. And I never will," she replies and captures his lips in hers once more.
He pulls back and smiles tenderly through his cracked lips. "I love you too," he mumbles.
They embrace.
He is so happy. But the part of him screaming won't shut up. It's screaming 'NO!' it's yelling 'STOP!' and it's trying to get him to leave the girl of his dreams. He forces it down, smothering it's paranoia, killing his protests. But still it tells him to leave, to let go, to stop kissing her.
But he doesn't listen and instead does the opposite as he pulls her into another tender kiss.
He won't stop, not when he's just gained whatever happiness he has left. Not when he just got back the girl he loves and will love forever.
When she suddenly pulls back, he looks at her in confusion. Her face is different somehow, less bright, more grey. Waxy. She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes and he can see that it's greasy.
"One more kiss," she whispers, voice low. Her eyes narrow and sharpen. "One more kiss, and we'll be together forever," she breathes, her voice taking on an ethereal glow. He gasps as her sharp nails dig into his cheek and pull him into a violent kiss. Their lips clash and teeth bump.
He struggles, finally noticing that something's wrong here. But her grip is sharp and she doesn't let go.
He feels the happiness draining somehow, and he feels the cold chill he's gotten used to the past years come back. Desperately, he grabs onto the woman and kiss back ferociously, trying to subdue the cold. But instead, it only intensifies and he feels dread fill him again.
But he does nothing, he can do nothing and instead, he sees the cell fade to black.
And suddenly, it's not a beautiful woman kissing him anymore, her face is falling apart and rotting flesh is peaking through. The dementor's face is neither colourful nor vibrant, it's pallor grey and waxy and it's skin slimy to the touch. Its hair is falling in greasy clumps as it lets go of the man it had been kissing. This time, it's the prisoner who falls to the floor, dead eyed and soulless.
The dementor seems to grin as it pulls its hood back over its deadened face.
It glides out of the cell.
And it almost smirks at the horrid screams and moans of the other prisoners.
It's time to eat…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
A/N: So, whattaya think? Random plot bunny that hit me the other day. Basically when I was musing about what was under the dementor's hood and how everyone describes them as nightmare-ish horrifying creature etc. Thought I'd do something different ;)
Anyhoo, please review?
:D
Ciao, Ale